


We Walked to the Brink

by cloudyworld



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Cold War, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudyworld/pseuds/cloudyworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evan is a black ops agent during the cold war. Currently, America is losing the standoff, but the president calls in a new agent: Johnny Weir, a Russian specialist who looks way too small and thin to ever be on a battlefield. He and Evan are teamed up to take down the Soviet forces, but Johnny has secrets, ones that could put both him and Evan in jeopardy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Walked to the Brink

 

 

 

 

Another mission had been aborted, and Evan was back in D.C. As soon as he returned to his office, he had to put on his formal uniform, one he hadn’t worn in awhile. The clothes were heavy and stifling, so much so that Evan almost wished he was back in Korea on the frontlines, where he could go without a shirt, and no one even cared. On his desk were the addresses of the men who had been working beside him in Russia, ones he wasn’t able to bring back home. Now he had been selected to go and inform their families they had been killed in action.

For now, Evan was working in the pentagon, in the nerve center, deep underground where it took four different passwords to even reach the elevator. Seeing the president was a normal occurrence, though not a good one, not now. Not when Russia got quiet about their weapons, when the slow push and pull grew strained, taut. Kennedy had come in with a grim face, knowing that the US’s options were few.

So they brought in a specialist.

A small man, one most unfit to be on a battlefield, with an equally small toothy smile. He introduced himself as Johnny, and advised them not to call him anything else. From what Evan had heard from one of the secretaries, Johnny was a top operative who had been working in Russia, gathering intel. He shot up the ranks with an almost easy grace, donned in all black and working reconnaissance, speaking Russian fluently, lips quirking at the end of every finished report. Everyone thanked him, Evan staying in his seat at the board table while Johnny shook hands with the president. Someone so bright and full of life seemed so out of place in the dark room, where the fates of millions, good or bad, would be decided. He didn’t seem to let that bother him.

Weeks later and the two were teamed together, briefed to pick up some intel from a now abandoned old rocket facility. Of course, it was everything but deserted. Johnny stood beside Evan from their drop-off point, hands in his pockets, a strangely bright scarf around his neck.

“I wish I had my furs,” he complained, sighing into the cold night air.

\--

Their evac never came, and the two were forced to hide, running from the larger cities and into the wilderness, Johnny asking for blankets and food for them to share until they could finally be extracted from the country. Clutching the blanket tightly, Johnny sat against Evan’s side in the barn, his form shivering. Why was he here? He definitely wasn’t made for combat. Evan was all muscle and still uncomfortable; Johnny must be freezing to death.

When he caught Evan’s gaze, Johnny laughed, a sick sort of noise.

“Don’t worry, Lysacek, I’m not a little girl. I’ve lived in Russia for a long time.” Shifting, the blanket slipped, Evan’s eyes traveling over the rifle Johnny was wrapped around.

“Yeah? You sure look like it,” he snorted, moving a little closer. Johnny leaned into him, close enough so Evan could see the dirt caked over soft skin, snow in his hair, once bright eyes in the boardroom looking worn and tired.

“Shut up,” Johnny hissed, fixing his blanket, shutting his eyes. “Just make sure we don’t get killed so I can sleep.”

\--

A conference in England had brought them to a fancy hotel, the dirt and freezing temperatures traded for an almost unsettlingly nice ballroom. The older politicians and various emissaries smiled fake smiles as they shook hands. Johnny had a smile just as fake for them.

Evan looked and felt trapped. Suits and “negotiations”, if that’s what these even were, weren’t his strong point. Johnny sauntered by, though, a glass of wine in his hand, even though they were told not to engage in anything of the sort. Evan noticed Johnny tended not to follow the rules.

“Relax,” he teased, free hand running over the front of his suit jacket. Johnny was so close to him Evan could smell the wine. “You look gorgeous. How could anyone say no to you?” Evan gulped, unable to breathe until Johnny finally pulled away.

\--

Johnny was too drunk to let go of Evan afterwards, even clinging to him enough to kiss him gently on the cheek, curling in the starchy covers of the bed, falling asleep as he murmured in Russian what sounded something like a poem. Evan only knew so much of the language. He couldn’t bring himself to move Johnny out of his bed, taking a blanket to the couch. He fell asleep to the sound of Johnny’s soft humming, only to wake a few hours later to find him gone, the bed back to its original pristine state.

Evan met him downstairs the next morning, finding Johnny writing notes in Russian, mumbling to himself before folding them up, standing to meet Evan’s eyes.

“Didn’t see you there. Good morning,” he greeted him, the smile curling his lips again, hands back in his suit pockets. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Evan replied, dazed. He tried to piece any words together on that paper that he could, understanding nothing but simple connecting words, nothing concrete. For a hardened veteran of Korea, where men died in front of him every day, all he could wonder was if it was a note to a loved one.

He felt almost jealous; of course someone loved the witty, attractive, fucking war hero Johnny Weir. Of course someone actually enjoyed talking to him outside of his job. Evan didn’t have many friends outside his job, since his neighbors all forgot he existed a long time ago. He gave up trying to make nice with unnecessary people after the war, but now he longed for it.

\--

Another briefing in the closed off boardrooms had dragged on for an hour, Evan barely awake in his seat, his coffee stale and cold. Johnny sat beside him, listening intently to the president, hands folded on the desk. Distantly, Evan could hear him giving his opinion, but he didn’t think much of it, not when he was so tired. When sleep began to fall over him, Evan felt something touch him. Looking down, he found Johnny’s hand on him, resting lightly over his thigh. That was enough to surprise him into wakefulness, much to Evan’s distaste. He felt almost bitter; it’s the first time he’s been touched in years and it’s by the stupid Russian expert with his soft, feminine hands. As long as Evan didn’t look over at Johnny, he could pretend it was a girl, couldn’t he?

Of course, as soon as Evan thought that, Johnny looked at him, smiling that toothy smile, daring him to push Johnny away, to make a scene. So much for pretending. Now Johnny was all he could see.

In the back of Evan’s mind, where the thought could stay, Evan wondered why he wasn’t as disgusted by that prospect as he should be.

Before he could let himself get distracted by Johnny’s eyelashes or lips, the president asked him a question, making Evan jump in his seat before answering with the most controlled voice he could muster.

\--

Johnny cornered him a few nights later, when even in the pentagon the number of people dwindled. His desk wasn’t as nice as anyone else’s, but Evan chalked that up to never being here.

“Good evening,” Johnny smiled, sitting on the edge of the desk, one hand placed over the paperwork Evan was doing. “You looked half-dead, so I thought I’d come over and wake you up.”

“I appreciate that, Johnny, but I’m fine now. I just have to get this finished, then I can go home.” As if to prove that he was fine, Evan sat up in the chair, scooting closer to the desk. Of course, as soon as his eyes were forced to look back at the fine print on each packet of orders and classified information, he started to feel just as sleepy as before.

“Are you sure?” Johnny teased, noting Evan’s expression. “Come on, let me help.” Slipping off the desk, Johnny moved closer, sitting on Evan’s thighs, grinning wickedly.

Oh yes, Evan was most definitely awake now. Johnny’s face and skin and even the way he smelled were infinitely more exciting than paperwork.

“How is this helping?” he asked, trying not to let his voice waver. Johnny could probably tell, though. “Now I can’t even reach my work.”

“Stop thinking about work for a second. I wanted to talk to you. I saw the way you’ve been looking at me. I’m a spy just like you, don’t think you can hide anything from me,” he smirked, leaning in. “What I wanted to know was if you planned on acting on them. Or was it just a strange lapse in judgment? Oh Johnny Weir, he looks a lot like a girl, maybe I could fuck him and call out my ex’s name. What was it, Emily? Annie? Karen? As long as I was facing the mattress, you could pretend, right?” Evan felt a rush of anger, muscles tightening as he thought about throwing Johnny off. What was he trying to do?

“It’s not like that!” he yelled a little loudly, chest heaving. Hopefully everyone who was still here was asleep on his or her work. “I wouldn’t have—I wasn’t thinking of any girls.”

“Really?” Johnny raised an eyebrow. “You deserve more credit then, mister American hero.”

“Cut the crap, Johnny, what do you want from me?” Evan asked, searching Johnny’s face. He was hard to read though, even if he was sitting on top of him.

“One kiss,” he smiled, closing the distance between them to press his lips to Evan’s for a brief moment, Evan holding stock still until Johnny pulled back. Evan’s lips felt warm and oh god this was so wrong, this was his coworker, male or not, and here he was, wanting to kiss him again. Evan knew he’d ruin this if he said or did anything that wasn’t kissing Johnny again.

Johnny kissed back easily, Evan able to hear his soft chuckling into the kiss, opening his mouth to deepen it, hands moving to Johnny’s hips, holding him, feeling hard muscle beneath betraying soft skin.

“You know, I wouldn’t have been offended if you wanted to call me Julia,” Johnny giggled, Evan frowning. He should pull away, he should.

“Shut the hell up,” he grumbled, biting down on Johnny’s lower lip, making him gasp for breath.

\--

With every mission afterwards, Evan felt himself getting closer to Johnny, especially as things got more difficult, the US knowing time was short. This time, they were cramped in the trunk of a car entering a Russian base, driven through a security checkpoint by a contact, a Russian scientist who realized the imminent defeat of his motherland and wanted to get out with his life. Once he had been deemed telling the truth, Evan and Johnny were flown in and given identical uniforms to the Soviet soldiers on patrol. They needed to retrieve the blueprints for a chemical weapon the scientist had been talking about, something that had the capability to wipe out the entire U.S. military.

When the two were briefed on the mission, Evan remembered Johnny asking if they had any backup. The secretary of defense had shaken his head. Other than the air strike team a couple miles offshore that Evan would give the coordinates to once they left, they were alone. He watched Johnny’s eyes lower, nodding once. He had gotten better at reading Johnny’s usually very guarded expression, which he was proud of himself for doing. However, watching Johnny just that morning, he had realized that expression he was making was fear. Evan had never seen Johnny scared before. He wished he hadn’t been able to tell then, either.

Now they were pushed against one another, Johnny half on top of Evan, a thick blanket laid overtop of them. Evan could feel every breath Johnny took, getting quicker as they could hear the muffled sounds of the soldiers talking, laughing, close by the car.

“Scared?” Evan smirked, looking down at Johnny who was curled somewhere beside his waist. The position was unnatural and awkward with the uniforms, but Johnny’s weight and warmth were comforting.

“No,” Johnny huffed, tightening. “’m cold.”

“What are they saying, outside the car?” Evan questioned. Johnny stilled, listening.

“They’re laughing about us. They know that this weapon is strong enough to take us all out. They’re saying there’s no way we can win, now. They want to watch us all die.”

Maybe it was a lapse in judgment, (Evan would call it that, if anyone asked, definitely) but Evan found himself shifting, folding over to find Johnny’s lips in the darkness, kissing him, praying that this little dumb, stupid thing wasn’t going to land them in trouble.

Upon pulling back, Johnny sighed, relieved, smiling against Evan’s lips.

“You like to live dangerously, huh, Lysacek?” he teased, his laugh not much more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

So maybe it wasn’t a little dumb, stupid thing. Not if Johnny wasn’t shaking so much anymore. Maybe Evan felt a little better about the mission, too.

\--

All in all, the mission had gone pretty smoothly, until the end when Evan had tripped security on accident, giving away their position to the Soviet guards who came pouring into the facility. Grabbing their scientist friend (who, Evan thought, was named Evgeni or something just as hard to pronounce), Evan ran out of the building, drawing a gun on every person who got in his way, scientist, soldier or not. The blueprints were in Johnny’s hand, they had gotten what they had came for, and now they just needed to maneuver through the endless corridors of the building. Knowing a shortcut, Evgeni took them through the testing wings, swearing they weren’t contaminated.

Contaminated or not, there were corpses on tables, skin split apart, ribs cut open to reveal organs and bones and everything else Evan could have been much happier without seeing. Bodies of pigs hung from the ceiling, chains creaking when the soldiers pushed them aside, firing and narrowly missing Evan. He fired back as best he could, quickly trying to reload. Johnny covered him, running a few feet behind Evan. The large room quickly reverted back to a hallway, Evgeni quickly darting through an intersection, narrowly avoiding another group of soldiers who fired at Evan, almost point blank.

They weren’t going to miss, not at this range, and Evan raised his arms to protect himself and at least lessen the damage, only to feel no pain at all. Lowering his arms, Evan found Johnny in front of him, clutching his shoulder, firing back at the Soviets and cursing. Once they all went down, Johnny turned to look at Evan, frowning.

“Be more careful next time, will you? I’m not taking another bullet for you, idiot,” he complained, blood soaking through the coarse fabric.

“Shit, Johnny, your shoulder,” Evan gasped, reaching out for him only to have Johnny swat him away.

“Yeah, my shoulder! That could have been your heart, so pay attention!” the black-haired man spat, gritting his teeth. “I’m fine, let’s go,” he barked as he began to run again, catching up to Evgeni. Snapping out of it, Evan sprinted to join them again, clutching tight to his gun, his heart racing, blood pounding in his ears. Jobs like this were always stressful, but Johnny just jumped in front of a fucking gun for him and he couldn’t think straight. Evan wondered if he could even remember how to fire a gun again.

Catching their helicopter, the two doctors on board immediately laid Johnny down, pulling off the jacket to try and stop the bleeding, yelling at the pilot to have a blood transfusion ready at the hospital as soon as they reached friendly territory. Johnny, unable to keep his eyes open, slipped into unconsciousness, the doctors talking to each other, their voices indistinguishable from the sounds of the helicopter as Evan watched the color fade from Johnny’s already pale face.

“He’ll be alright, right?” Evan found himself asking, the two other men turning to look at him.

“We expect a speedy recovery. The wound isn’t too deep, so as long as we can get to the base as soon as possible we—“

“He’ll be alright, yes or no?” Evan cut the doctor off, frowning. Evan could care less about patience and manners at this point.

“Yes, He’ll be fine, Lysacek,” the doctor replied, raising an eyebrow. Evan ignored him, turning to look back at Johnny’s still form, his labored breathing the only thing giving Evan any solace in the loud cabin of the helicopter.

\--

Johnny recovered quickly; the only thing left of the incident was a faint scar in his shoulder where they pulled the bullet out that Evan would press his lips to when they were together, knowing that Johnny was tired of his apologies. He didn’t seem to mind the kisses so far.

He was up and ready to return to combat in two days, even after the doctors advised him to wait a week. They sat down with the president for another briefing, Kennedy praising them for getting the blueprints of the weapon.

“Now that we have these, we can formulate our own counterattack, neutralizing the chemicals and saving millions. It’s all thanks to you two,” he had said, nodding at Evan and Johnny. Evan smiled gratefully, thanking him, knowing still that it was far from over, and thousands more probably had to die before they could save those millions.

\--

Placed on their desks the next morning was a file with a list of names. Evan opened it, scanning over the descriptions. Each man was Russian, with names a little hard for him to pronounce. The file said that each of the men listed here were supposed to be dangerous spies, leaked to them by a Soviet defector, many of which could be inside the American or other Western governments already. The agent who had left it there wrote a note, cautioning them to look out for these men, for they could be close, selling government secrets to the Soviet Union. As Evan looked over the list, Johnny walked up, sitting on the arm of his chair, leaning into him.

“How would you pronounce that,” Evan asked, pointing to one of the names, a little embarrassed that Russian was difficult for him. Hopefully Johnny wouldn’t make fun of him.

“Viacheslav,” Johnny replied, still looking over the names. Evan relaxed a little.

“Do you know any of these guys? You worked up there in the intelligence agency, didn’t you?”

“No, I don’t recognize any of them,” he said, short. Evan watched as Johnny stood, leaving him, his hands in his pockets. Evan didn’t know what he did wrong, so he brushed it off, choosing to go back to work on orders. Maybe Johnny will talk to him later.

\--

Johnny’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him down closer on the bed, their lips meeting. The night had been uneventful, getting off work later to share a meager amount of takeout before ending up at Evan’s quiet apartment, Johnny’s frame pressed against the door as Evan locked it.

As their skin met, Johnny moaned, fingernails leaving angry red lines along his back. Evan pressed closer, working Johnny’s pants off and tossing them off the bed, too preoccupied to care where they landed. This wasn’t that different. Where Evan had smoothed over curves before, Johnny had sharp angles, his chest and stomach flat and hot beneath Evan’s palms. This was okay. They kissed until neither could breathe, pulling at one another until Evan pinned Johnny to the bed, lips moving down over his throat, biting and sucking, making Johnny squirm and whine. Evan’s mouth slipped lower, down to kiss the inside of Johnny’s thigh, pointedly ignoring exactly where Johnny wanted him.

“Evan, please. This is like torture,” he panted, lifting his hips from the mattress. Evan’s only response was to pull back, licking his lips, meeting Johnny’s eyes, unable to get enough of how desperate he looked, his mouth hanging open, lips bruised and wet.

“You haven’t told me what you wanted, yet,” the taller man replied easily, thumb running over a bony hip. Johnny rolled his eyes, cursing softly in Russian.

“I want you,” he begged, hands leaving the pillow to run through Evan’s hair, tugging on the strands. Evan moved up Johnny’s body again, tilting his head to kiss the faded scar on his shoulder, making Johnny gasp.

“Okay,” Evan allowed, smiling into Johnny’s skin, biting down, wanting to leave a mark.

“You do know what to do, right?” Johnny smirked, raising an eyebrow. Evan sighed, losing some of that desire with frustration. Of course Johnny would second-guess him, it’s not like he’s ever had sex with a man before.

“Yes, I know what to do,” he replied angrily, digging his fingernails into Johnny’s side, maybe wanting him to hurt a little. Johnny just laughed, only succeeding in making Evan lean in and bite down hard on his neck, one hand wrapping tightly around his length, squeezing. The laugh turned into a moan, Johnny’s hands tightening on Evan’s hair as he pushed his hips up into Evan’s closed fist, needing more. Pulling away, Evan grabbed a condom and the lube, moving back onto the bed, Johnny already halfway through preparing himself, using two fingers, then three.

Evan gulped; all of his anger was gone as he watched Johnny finger himself, noting how he twisted his wrist, stretching, watching them slide in as he pushed them deeper. Johnny opened his eyes again to look at Evan, biting his lip, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry, I wanted to speed it up. Didn’t want you to have to wait,” he laughed shortly, sweat beading on his brow. Evan couldn’t help himself, crawling over to kiss Johnny on the mouth, a hand cupping his cheek.

“That’s okay, that’s fine,” he replied against Johnny’s lips, kissing him a few more times. “God, that’s just fine.” Johnny finished then, pulling his fingers out and spreading his legs for Evan to settle between them, positioning himself.

“I’m ready,” Johnny spoke before Evan asked, smiling a little. Evan nodded, hands gripping Johnny’s hips as he pushed in, making the smaller man moan, eyes squeezing shut. Evan couldn’t breathe suddenly, Johnny holding him tightly, the sensation overwhelming. Shuddering, he pulled back out, starting a slow rhythm, hoping Johnny was okay. He’d done a lot of dangerous missions, killed a bunch of men, but never had he done something as scary as this.

“Faster,” Evan heard Johnny say, breaking him out of his thoughts. Looking up, Evan could see Johnny fighting to stay still, wanting more, sweat making his skin slick. “Please?” Evan obliged him, pushing faster, deeper, making Johnny shudder, hands clawing at the bedsheets, trying to hold on. He started moaning, and Evan knew then he was doing something right. He wanted to hear more, needed it, so he started moving faster, moaning himself when Johnny’s hips met his in turn.

Coherent thought was lost on Evan when Johnny moaned his name, hands leaving bruises on Johnny’s hips, his entire body trembling with his release, burying himself deep, pressing his face into Johnny’s neck. In his haze, he thought he felt Johnny come right after him, which was a relief, since he didn’t feel like moving for the rest of the night, now, lazily kissing the marks he left earlier.

After a moment, Johnny attempted to crawl his way out from underneath Evan, sighing when Evan pulled out and rolled over, eyes closed.

“You didn’t call me Julia, good job,” Johnny teased, moving into the bathroom to clean himself off. Evan groaned, sitting up, tugging the condom off and tossing it in the trash. He knew he should defend himself, but he couldn’t find the energy to do anything more than groan. Returning to the room, Johnny began to put his clothes back on, pulling at the wrinkles in his shirt.

At the rustling, Evan looked up, vision a little hazy.

“You’re…you’re staying, right?” he asked, meek. Johnny looked up from his shoes, blinking. “I want you to stay,” Evan reiterated, hoping Johnny wasn’t going to laugh at him or anything. He’d already messed up enough times for one day. Sighing, Johnny tossed his shoes aside, walking back over to the bed.

“Only if you give me a t-shirt to sleep in. There’s no way I’m sleeping in my nice clothes.” Evan nodded slowly, pointing to a basket of folded laundry in the corner. Johnny picked through it until he found a simple shirt, tugging off his clothes and slipping on that one instead, before gingerly climbing back into the bed with Evan, lying on his side, silent. Evan moved closer, lifting an arm.

“Can I…?” he asked, hesitating. Johnny just laughed.

“Yeah, you can. “ Once he allowed it, Evan wrapped his arm around Johnny, pulling him closer.

“Goodnight,” Evan mumbled, smiling. Johnny’s smile faded as he got comfortable, shutting his eyes.

“Goodnight.”

\--

He came into work early, wanting to finish up all the deskwork he had to do before being sent out again to fight in the field. Walking a cup of coffee back to his desk, he was surprised to find Johnny tucked away in a little corner of the building, a bunch of classified folders spread out, open in front of him. Stepping closer, Evan looked at the dates and the information. Most of it looked harmless; Johnny had clearance for those, but one underneath had the location of all of the U.S.’s missile silos and nuclear weapon research the scientists had brought back after testing. Did he have the clearance for those?

“Good morning,” Evan simply said, sipping his coffee, watching Johnny jump three feet, scoop up all the papers and turn around, frightened.

“Shit! You scared me,” Johnny laughed, standing up and patting Evan on the shoulder. “Congrats.” Evan didn’t move, taking another drink of his coffee. He was going to have to get another cup.

“What are you working on?” Johnny turned back to look at his messy workspace, hesitating.

“Ah, I’m just looking over some stuff we’ve talked about in the meetings with the secdef. Nothing too big. I wanted a little refreshing before we went back into the field,” he replied easily, meeting Evan’s eyes again, smiling. Either Johnny was a really really good liar, or he was telling the truth.

“Okay, just put them back where you got them when you’re done,” he reminded Johnny, turning away to go back to his desk. He’d look into it, later. He needed more coffee for that.

\--

Night found Evan at Johnny’s apartment, tangled in his sheets, lips and hands and teeth revisiting every bruise and mark he made previously, Johnny melting into his arms. Evan was more experienced this time; all the effort he took worrying last time he used to push harder, pressing right where Johnny wanted it, making him cry out. They came together this time, Evan’s hand wrapped around Johnny’s length, helping him along. Rolling over, they both fell asleep, legs entwined, Evan’s arms around Johnny’s smaller form.

Evan didn’t wake up until later, stirring when he felt a little cold. Opening his eyes, he was met with the fact that he was still naked, and Johnny was nowhere to be found. Blearily, Evan stood, tugging on his underwear, pants and a t-shirt, too cold to go and find Johnny. The bed was still a little warm, so he pulled the covers up over himself, hoping to stop shivering.

Faintly, Evan could hear murmuring coming from somewhere else in the house. It sounded like Johnny, but it could be the TV. Until of course, Evan realized the U.S. wouldn’t allow any TV shows on in Russian, especially not with the cold war they were so wrapped up in. So it had to be Johnny talking to someone.

Sitting up, Evan strained to hear a voice in response, but none came. So he was on the phone. It would be too suspicious of Evan to walk out and ask whom he’s talking to. But he wouldn’t need to when he saw another phone on the dresser, hopefully hooked up to the same line. Silently, Evan slipped out of the bed, picking up the phone and holding his hand over the receiver.

Evan wished he could understand Russian because they were talking quickly, and with hushed voices, the other man on the line speaking more than Johnny was. Johnny just seemed to be agreeing. It switched when Johnny began to speak some more, listing things. Evan tried his hardest to decipher it, but all he could get was the names of places that didn’t have Russian words for them. Places in the US. The places seemed so random, though, why would anyone want to travel there?

But Evan remembered seeing those places before. The places Johnny was listing to this other man were the locations of where the missiles were being held, in case there were to be an all-out war.

Evan tried to hide his gasp, hoping Johnny or the other man didn’t hear him. Maybe it was a simple coincidence. Maybe this was another guy working for the U.S., and Johnny just liked speaking in Russian to him? No, no, that couldn’t be right. Why would he talk to him secretly at four in the morning? Evan had to assume the worst.

Breaking Evan out of his increasingly scary thoughts, Johnny said goodbye to the man.

“Da, Viacheslav,” the man replied before the line went silent.

Evan quietly hung up the phone, hands shaking, ears ringing. This couldn’t really be happening. He must be having a weird paranoid nightmare. He’ll just wake up and Johnny will be in his arms and still Johnny, not the Soviet spy giving secrets back to his country. He’ll still be his partner, not the man the other agents warned him about. Any moment now, and he’ll wake up.

Johnny came back into the room, looking at Evan, eyebrow raised.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Johnny laughed a little, stepping closer, only to frown when Evan jumped back, stuttering.

“D-don’t come any closer!” he shouted, grabbing Johnny’s pistol off the nightstand, aiming it at him. Johnny gasped, holding his hands in the air, shaking his head.

“Evan, what’s going on? Please, put down the gun and talk to me.”

“I don’t want to fucking talk to you!” Evan yelled, chest heaving, hands tightening on the gun. “Everything you’ve told me is a lie! You’ll just lie to me some more! Why don’t I just fucking kill you right now?” Johnny stepped back, still looking confused.

“Evan, please. When did I lie to you? Please talk to me. I want to know what’s wrong so I can fix it,” Johnny reasoned, holding his hands out. Evan shook his head.

“You can’t fix it. You especially can’t fix it after you gave all the fucking missile locations to your little KGB friend!” At this, Johnny’s arms dropped, his face falling. “Yeah, I know who you are, Viacheslav!” Evan spat, still aiming the gun at Johnny’s head. It was a minute before Johnny lifted his head again to sigh, a sad smile curling his lips.

“So you were listening. I should have known,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, Evan. You’re right. I’m one of them. I’ve been sending stuff back to the Soviet Union for a while, now. I was doing exactly what you thought I was.” Evan knew it was the truth, but it still hurt to hear Johnny say it. He swallowed, holding tight to the gun.

“Why?” he choked out, hurt. It was too late to not take this personally. “Why would you lie about all this? Why did you let me get close?”

“Evan, I wasn’t sleeping with you so I could get into all the classified stuff and assassinate the president. I never lied about the feelings I had for you, I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t actually care about you. I do care, Evan. I love you.” Evan shook his head profusely, squeezing his eyes shut.

“No, no, shut up! Shut the fuck up! You’re lying!” Johnny moved closer, trying to calm Evan down, only to find himself pinned to the wall, Evan holding him there, the gun against the side of his head.

“I’m not lying, Evan. I swear. I meant it. I love you.” Evan pulled back just enough to hit him with the butt of the gun across the face, Johnny tensing beneath his hold, but not fighting back.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Evan growled, Johnny lifting his head again to meet Evan’s eyes, a bruise already beginning to form on his cheek, looking like the other ones, faded and old on his neck and chest. Evan immediately regretted hitting him.

“I don’t have one. I’ve been lying about who I am this whole time, putting your country in jeopardy. I’m just another dirty communist. I deserve to die.”

Evan listened, his hand shaking, watching as Johnny leaned into the barrel of the gun, pressing it back against his own head.

“Just kill me, Evan. Pull the trigger.”

“No,” Evan ground out, trembling.

“Just do it, Evan! Pull the trigger! You’ve killed so many of my friends already, why stop now? I’m just one of them! You’ll be a hero if you kill me, so shoot me already!”

“No!” Evan’s voice rose, meeting Johnny’s.

“Evan, fucking shoot me, god dammit, how hard is that?! Pull the fucking trigger and end it!”

“No!!” Evan screamed back, hot tears sliding down his face. “I can’t do it, I can’t.” He pulled away, leaving Johnny against the wall, panting. Evan threw the gun on the bed, putting the rest of his clothes on, slipping on his shoes.

“Resign from work and go into hiding. If you stay any longer, they’ll find out you’re one of them.”

“Evan,” Johnny mumbled, reaching out for him. Evan lifted a hand, stopping him.

“Flee to Canada or Mexico or something. They won’t come looking for you. Just go.”

“Will I see you again?” he asked, taking a few tentative steps forwards. From the doorway, Evan turned to look back at him.

“No, probably not.” Johnny nodded, looking at his feet.

“Then please, let me kiss you one more time,” Evan turned around, moving back into the room to stand in front of Johnny, who smiled hopefully, tilting his head, closing his eyes.

Evan didn’t lean in, though. Lifting a hand, he ran it down the side of Johnny’s face, brushing the hair out of his eyes, thumb moving across his swollen cheek. Johnny opened his eyes when Evan’s touch left him, only to watch him leave.

\--

With a team of Black ops agents, Evan was able to infiltrate the mansion of the man behind the chemical weaponry, getting the final blueprints from him, leaving no one left alive who knew about it. Placing timed bombs all over the building, they quickly excited, setting off each bomb in turn, the building collapsing, leaving all of the plans and bodies buried within it. Jumping into the helicopter, the men high-fived each other, hooting and shouting as they watched the fire and smoke grow farther and farther away.

“Hey, Lysacek, good news from home,” one of the guys turned to him, his smile bright beneath all the dirt on his face and clothes. “Pentagon says they found a Soviet spy working close by with the president.”

“How the fuck is that good news?” one of the other men chimed in, the co-pilot berating him when he tried to light a cigarette.

“I was getting to that part! I heard that before they could take him into custody, he shot himself in the head! Awesome, right? No more communist bastards will be getting any intel from us! Fuck yeah!” They high-fived each other some more, laughing.

“Yeah,” Evan replied, hollow.

Once they had turned away, Evan curled up in the back of the cabin, put his head in his hands, and cried.


End file.
